Cross Crease (On The Edge Book 3)

by Elizabeth Hartey

  I don’t hear Pippa walk up behind me because the water jets gurgling in the sunken hot tub on the patio are too loud. The tubs are an added luxury in all the private cottages at the resort. They can be set with timers to have them bubbling and warm whenever the quests get back to their rooms.

  “Are you a pirate? Because I’m wondering where you got that booty.” I jump a mile when she delivers the cornball line behind me. When I turn, I almost swallow my tongue at the sight. She’s leaning against the door frame in nothing but her lacy, black, see-through panties.

  “I’m going to take a dip in the hot tub before bed. Care to join me?” Pippa declares in a nonchalant tone like it’s customary for her to be standing in front of me practically naked.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Pip! What the hell are you doing?” I drag my fingers back through my hair and tug.

  This girl is my karmic payback for the shit life I’ve led in the past and the current one I’m still living: doing whatever and whoever the hell I want whenever the hell I want. The universe taunts me every time I see Pip because now all I want is her and I can’t have her. My dick strains against my jeans. Her perfect tits in the moonlight are begging to be touched, licked, nibbled on.

  “I told you. I’m going in the hot tub.” She stumbles past me and steps down into the steaming water.

  “Might not be such a good idea,” I warn her through clenched teeth I’m gritting so hard I may crack one.

  I imagine all the things I could be doing to her in the heated, bubbling water and how she’d be moaning my name. I’m resisting giving in to my demanding dick. Closing my eyes, I fist my hands at my side to stop myself from ripping off my restrictive clothing to join her. Pippa moans in a not so pleasurable tone. I snap my eyes open to see if she’s okay.

  “Dizzy. Too hot,” she groans.

  “I told you it wasn’t a good idea to mix the alcohol effects with the hot water.” I reach into the tub and lift her into my arms, cradling her against me. “You’re so damn stubborn. You never listen.” She nuzzles her nose into my neck.

  “Aww. Don’t be mad at me, D. Love me. Just love me,” she coos. Holy fuck. I have a nearly naked Heaven in my arms begging me to love her. My body trembles like an inexperienced teen as she nestles further into me. My cock swells against the unyielding denim.

  I grab a towel off the rack next to the hot tub and carry her into the bedroom. Standing her up next to the bed, I wrap the towel around her. She throws her arms around my neck and stares up at me with a big-eyed questioning gaze.

  “Well?” She tilts her head and waits for me to answer.

  “Well, what?” I drag my gaze away from her sweet questioning face and focus on keeping the towel around her while using it to rub her dry before she gets into bed. As I stroke her, my skin gets hot, and I get harder. I’m sure every ounce of my blood is headed straight to my dick.

  “Are you going to love me?”

  “What are you talking about? You silly pip-squeak. I already love you.” I make the mistake of looking into her dangerous cerulean eyes without the safety of body armor. Her yearning gaze shoots rockets straight to my heart. Then they ricochet and shoot straight to my thickening cock. “I…I always have,” I mumble, trying to get my brain to focus on something besides the gorgeous-naked-woman-in-my-arms sensations.

  “Poo. You know that’s not what I mean.” Pippa pulls the towel off her and slides her thumbs into the sides of her wet lace panties. Wiggling them off, she lies back onto the bed. “I mean, I want you to touch me.”

  Bending one leg up, she slides a hand down between her thighs and touches herself and then pushes one finger inside the exact place I’d like to have my fingers, the place where I’d like to have my face buried, where I’d like to be licking and sucking and devouring her. “I mean, I want you to fuck me,” she moans as she pleasures herself.

  “Fuck, Heaven,” I groan. I should look away. I should run away. But I can’t. I can’t stop watching her finger fuck herself.

  “Yes. Fuck me, D,” she moans. Dropping her head back, she arches up, pushing against her own hand.

  I have never in my life done what I’m about to do. Not even when I was being paid for my services. Watching her writhe against her hand while making soft whimpering sounds, I unzip my jeans. My cock lunges free, straining out the top of my briefs like it’s gasping for air. Yanking my underwear down, I run my thumb over the tip of my throbbing erection, using the precum lingering there to moisten my length. Wrapping my fist around my shaft, I slide it down in a long, slow stroke and then back up again. I let out a moan. Pippa opens her eyes and stares at me through half-lidded eyes clouded in a sexual haze. When she sees what I’m doing, desire flares even hotter in her eyes.

  “D, don’t stop,” she moans.

  “Jesus. Fuck.” My cock jerks and somehow grows even harder in my hand.

  Our gazes lock. Pippa pushes another finger into herself, her thrusts becoming more urgent, more wild. I can see the juices glistening on her fingers as they thrust in and out. Her other hand grips her tit, and she begins kneading it. Even though she’s pleasuring herself, she keeps begging me in tormented groans not to stop. I’m lost in a sexual fog, my eyes focused on the breathtaking image in front of me.

  I begin to stroke myself in a feverish rhythm to match hers. When Pippa lets out a pleasured scream, every muscle in my body goes rigid. I let go, releasing violent hot jets into my hand. A feral growl pushes out of me when I shoot into my fist. I have never come as strong or hard, and I wasn’t even touching her. What the hell would it be like if I was?

  For a moment I stand frozen in place. It takes only seconds for reality to sink in. What the fuck just happened? What did I do? I swipe my sticky hand down the leg of my jeans as I tug them up. Shifting my dick back into place, I zip up my pants. He’s not happy about it. Even though I just came with hurricane force, he’s still semi-hard and wants more. Hell, we both want more from the goddess stretched back on the bed.

  “Pippa. I’m…are you…” I don’t know what to say to her. Should I apologize or will acting like it was a mistake, yet again, only make it worse?

  But while I’m groping for the right words, I realize Pippa is making little snoring noises. In her AMF’d, hot tub inebriated state she had fucked herself to sleep. Another first for me. I’ve never had a woman fall asleep after an earth-shattering orgasm. Then again, it wasn’t me giving her the cataclysmic orgasm. It was her own hand. Huh. Who knew? My little virgin can be a wildcat.

  I head into the bathroom and wash the evidence of my erroneous actions off my hands, stomach, and shirt before returning to Pippa’s bedside. She looks like a dark angel lying there naked, in a peaceful slumber, her long, raven hair splayed out around her head. She’s the most gorgeous perfect thing I’ve ever seen. Tugging the comforter and sheets out from underneath her, I lift her legs and turn her, placing her head on a pillow. She lets out a little protesting moan as I reposition her.

  “Shh. It’s okay, baby. Everything’s going to be okay.” I pull the covers up to her chin and tuck them in around her. “You sleep and tomorrow your prince charming scientist will be here, and I’ll never go near you like that again.”

  I bend and give her a soft kiss on the forehead before making my way to the door. I check after closing it to make sure the automatic lock clicked into place. My head is pounding in thought, and my dick is still throbbing as I make my way down the path the few feet to my own cottage.

  When I get inside, I head for my bathroom, stripping my soaking wet clothes off as I walk. Turning on the surround shower jets, I step in before the water has time to warm up. The initial icy blast pelting my body is a relief. But it’s not enough. As the water begins to warm, my cock thickens at the mental images of Heaven writhing and moaning across her bed while finger fucking herself. I drop my head back and close my eyes.

  She’s no longer little Pippa—that’s for fucking sure. Visions of Heaven continue to fill my thoughts. I make a fist arou
nd my hard length and stroke up and down, imagining it’s her touching me, caressing me, stroking me. My engorged need for her is almost painful. I continue to work myself faster, up and down, jackhammering at a frenzied pace, chasing another desperate release.

  When I reach the agonizing blissful pressure point where I let go, I cry out her name in a beseeching groan. The relief I’m seeking doesn’t follow because it’s not her. It’s not Heaven. It’s not the woman I’m craving with every thought in my head and cell in my body.

  Chapter Nine

  Heaven

  “Oh God. Just take me now,” I groan as I sit up in bed. Have you ever banged your head against a wall in rhythmic time to a jazzy tune? Me neither. But it’s exactly what my head feels like right now; like a thousand Oompa Loompas are doing a tap dance on my brain. I will never, ever, ever drink again. When I stand, I almost lose my footing and fall back onto the bed. Doing my best to stay upright, I shuffle my way to the bathroom. I have to pee so bad my bladder is in imminent danger of exploding.

  “Yikes! Who is that?” Gaping at the reflection in the wall-size mirror over the sink I find myself wondering who the heck is looking back at me. Surely some hungover wretch found their way into my room. I blink a few times to clear my vision. Nope. The naked wretch whose reflection looks like who did it and ran is me. Where the hell are my clothes? I don’t remember taking off my dress or my…“Oh God, no!” The memory of last night’s antics hits me like a sledgehammer. “No! No, you didn’t! Heaven, you stupid, stupid girl,” I groan and push my fisted hands against my smudged eyeliner and mascara encircled owl eyes. No need to judge. I’m self-judging enough for everyone. I’m officially too humiliated and too ridiculous to ever interact with another human being again as long as I live.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I scold the disheveled mess in the mirror. “This is all your fault.” I know. I’ll change my name, dye my hair, move to Antarctica, join the witness protection program.

  “That’s right. I said the witness protection program.” The unruly girl in the mirror scowls at me like I’m crazy. “Because I witnessed the murder of a beautiful friendship,” I explain to the imp in exasperation. Ugh. Not only am I a hungover slut, I’m talking to myself like a lunatic.

  Except I can’t change my identity today because it’s my brother’s wedding day and I’m a bridesmaid in the happy event. And oh, fuckity fuck! I’m supposed to have breakfast at my parents’ cottage with D in…I run to the nightstand to check the digital clock. Twenty minutes! I have twenty minutes to metamorphosize from last night’s hussy into this morning’s angelic bridesmaid.

  I take the much-needed pee, which uses up two ticking minutes and jump in and out of the shower. After towel drying my hair, I pull it up into a wet mess on my head. Tracey has a hairdresser coming to her cottage later to do everyone’s hair and makeup, anyway. And there’s certainly no sense in doing anything to make myself look more presentable for D.

  He saw me at my absolute most desperate point last night. There’s no coming back from it. I tug on a pair of leggings and a loose t-shirt, which were supposed to be my sleeping attire before I decided to become Santa Barbara’s Mata Hari. Slamming the door behind me, I hurry out the gate, only to run smack into D.

  He, of course, looks like the gift from the gods he is, all gleaming skin and rippling muscle. His beautiful hair flows in perfect waves down to his shoulders, his silver eyes are bright and sparkling in the sunlight. There’s just enough scruff on his jaw to make him look even sexier than usual. He couldn’t be more gorgeous if he were already wearing his tux rather than low hanging black sweatpants and a white muscle t-shirt. Does he seriously wake up like that?

  He flashes his panty-dropping grin. “Hey, you can call me Enterprise ’cause…”

  “Don’t.” I hold up a hand to stop him right there. “I can’t with the stupid pick-up lines this morning.”

  “Look. About last night…”

  “Don’t say another word,” I interrupt him again. “It happened. I did what I did. I can’t take it back. It’s in the past. Let’s just forget it. No need to analyze and discuss it.” I continue to walk past him toward my parents’ cottage.

  “What you did?” He catches up to me. “It wasn’t just you. I think I was an active and willing participant in our…um…joint effort.”

  “Joint effort? Nice way to put it.” I shake my head and keep walking without looking at him. I can’t look at him without picturing him stroking himself and groaning in pleasure.

  “How would you put it? Hand fucking ourselves into ecstasy while we watched each other?” He smirks. I come to such an abrupt stop, my flip flops get stuck on the damp grass and slide off my feet.

  “No. I wouldn’t put it that way.” I turn and glare into his heart-stopping eyes. “Can we not put it any way at all? I don’t want to talk about it or think about it ever again. It was another mistake. I’m sorry. I assure you it will never happen again. Now can we go have breakfast with my parents and get through this wedding and the rest of this freaking weekend, please?” I’m glowering at D with such projected anger, I don’t miss the way he takes a step back from me. But the anger isn’t for him, it’s for me.

  “Sorry. Can we just go eat and not talk?” I attempt a smile.

  “Sure.”

  I slide back into my sandals, and we resume walking. “But…Pip?”

  I let out a sigh, not wanting to hear what he has to say about my behavior.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  ***

  The remaining walk down the path to my parents’ cottage is spent in silence. Even though I said I never want to think about last night again, all I can do is think about it. How it felt to plunge my fingers inside myself in front of D while imagining it was his fingers caressing me, fucking me. And then seeing him stroke his hard length while watching me with his hungry eyes. My leggings are soaked just thinking about it.

  When we get to my parents’ cottage door, I can hear the Snatam Kaur music Mom streams when she does yoga. Guess room service hasn’t delivered breakfast yet. I did manage to get myself together in record-breaking time and get here a few minutes early. Could be a good thing. Maybe some relaxing Kirtan music is exactly what I need to calm myself from this frenzied humiliated state. I don’t bother to knock because I don’t want to disturb Mom’s yoga session. D walks in behind me.

  “Wow. It’s sweltering in here. Isn’t it?” he comments and wipes his brow.

  “Mom must be doing a hot yoga session. She must’ve turned the heat up.” Jesus. It’s unusually humid and sweaty even for Mom’s hot yoga. “Mom? Dad?” I call out as we walk into the small foyer. No answer.

  Walking into the living room I’m surprised not to see my mom in some contorted position on her yoga mat. But then I hear it. Husky strained grunts and the bubbling hot tub jets coming from the patio. When I walk a little further into the room my eyes are zinged with a sight I’ll never be able to erase from my brain as long as I live.

  “What the hell? Mom? Daddy? What are you doing? Oh God. Unsee. Unsee. Unsee.” I turn, scrub my closed eyes with the heels of my hands and beg my brain to abort and erase the vision.

  “Hi, honey. Breakfast should be here in a few.” Mom raises her head from my dad’s crotch and greets me like everything is perfectly normal.

  “Holy shit!” D is standing next to me staring out to the patio. “Your parents are a trip.”

  “Heaven! What are you doing here? You’re early,” my dad grunts from the base of the inverted two-person yoga pose he and Mom are holding.

  “Dad! What is going on?” I ask without turning around to look at the sight which may have scarred me for life.

  “We’re having a hot yoga session, honey,” Mom answers like it’s the most normal thing in the world. I can tell from the strained sound of her voice she hasn’t moved from her upside-down position against my dad’s thighs with her face pointing straight into his package.

  “You. Ar
e. Naked.” I state the obvious.

  “Fucking amazing. It’s like a live version of the Kama Sutra,” D mumbles and tilts his head like he’s trying to adjust his gaze to get a better look at the naked crazies. There’s a shuffling sound, but I don’t turn to see what’s going on.

  “I know! I find it’s so much more freeing. Allows for a much higher vibration. You should try it, sweetheart,” Mom chirps.

  “With the Haywards?” I screech at a decibel I didn’t know my voice could reach.

  “Well…no. You don’t need to do it with the Haywards.” She hesitates like I’m the crazy one here. “I was telling Terace about it at the rehearsal dinner, and she was anxious to give it a try. So, no better time than the present. Speaking of which, don’t be rude, Heaven. Say hello to the Haywards,” Mom calls out, her voice sounding clear and sharp like she has finally decided to stand the hell up.

  “So that’s how you reach the higher vibration you were telling me about.” D smirks, while still gaping at the freaky family tableau on the patio. “You’re right. I’m definitely going to have to try it.”

  “Do you think you could turn around now? That is my mother and Mrs. Hayward you’re gawking at,” I admonish D.

  “Your dad and Mr. Hayward are there too,” he points and adds in a matter-of-fact tone like it makes his gawking perfectly okay. “I didn’t even know your parents and Tracey’s parents were such good friends.” I punch him in the shoulder. “Ow! What? It’s true.”

  “Turn. Around,” I demand through clenched teeth while stomping my foot. He does. “Dear God. First, I masturbate in front of you and now this. My family has officially reached creepy perv status.” I cover my face with my hands and groan through my fingers.